


Locked Out

by morningsound15



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 05:04:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5696053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morningsound15/pseuds/morningsound15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The first time it happened was totally accidental.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The third time it happened it was definitely still Octavia’s fault.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>By the fifth time, Clarke couldn’t really pretend that she wasn’t… orchestrating this in some way.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Again, Ms. Griffin?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Clarke grinned and stood from the floor. “Lexa I think we can cut the formalities. It’s been like… a half dozen times you’ve let me into my room. You can call me Clarke. We’re there in our relationship, I think.” </i>
</p><p>--</p><p>Clarke has a missing room key and a very forgetful roommate, and she finds herself frequently locked out of her own bedroom. Lexa works for the Campus Police and she finds herself outside Clarke’s bedroom door an unusually frequent amount of times to let her in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Locked Out

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [ tumblr. ](https://morningsound15.tumblr.com/)

The first time it happened was totally accidental.

“Fucking goddammit, Octavia,” Clarke muttered furiously under her breath. She tried twisting the doorknob several more times, but she knew it was pointless. Clarke sighed heavily and smacked her head against her stubborn door. She stayed there for several long moments, the cool wood doing little to ease the headache nagging behind her eyes. She had spent close to six hours that day staring down her computer and trying to tackle a particularly frustrating essay, and had little to show for it except 3 miserable pages of writing and a shoddy works cited page.

Clarke pulled her phone out of her back pocket, still refusing to lift her head from its position against her door. She pressed Octavia’s contact and lifted the phone to her ear. It rang four long times, and Clarke was worried no one would pick up.

“Clarke it’s 11 p.m.”

“That is not a good greeting.”

Octavia sighed into the line. “I was almost asleep.”

“Not in our room, I’m guessing?”

“No.” There’s a slight pause, before, “Why?”

“The door’s fucking locked, O.”

“Well where’s your key?”

“You know I lost it.”

Octavia groaned, and muttered in a low voice, “Fuck, Clarke, I’m sorry. I totally forgot.”

“Well, come back here and let me in, then.”

“Clarke…” Octavia trailed off and Clarke heard what sounded like the rustling of bed sheets, before Octavia’s whispered voice bit at her, “I’m sort of _busy_ right now.”

“I’m fucking tired, O, please come let me in.”

“Okay, _first_ of all you’re being very rude, which, given the late hour and that midterms are coming up, I will kindly forget come tomorrow.” Clarke opened her mouth to retort, but Octavia cut her off with: “And _secondly,_ Clarke, I’m not on campus, I’m at Lincoln’s. You knew I was staying here tonight.”

Clarke lifted her head only enough to bring it crashing back down to the door with a frustrated groan. “I’ve had like the longest day of my life, Octavia, please–”

“I’m downtown at his apartment and I’m not going to catch a bus back to campus at 11 just to let you into our room. Call Campus Po.”

“They take _forever_ , Octavia, please…”

“Clarke, I’m _sorry_. Look, if it’s about the lockout fee, I’ll throw you the ten dollars tomorrow. This is pretty much my fault anyways, though you _did_ lose your key after only three weeks, so…”

“Thank you for being absolutely no help to me.”

“You’re buying me ice cream tomorrow for being an ass right now.”

Clarke bit her lip and took a deep breath. She knew she was being unfair. It wasn’t Octavia’s fault that Clarke had lost her key. She knew Octavia was going off campus for the weekend. She should have reminded her to keep the door open. And besides, Octavia wasn’t the one who assigned her three term papers due in the same number of days. “I’m sorry, O,” she said in a low voice, pulling away from the door and turning so her back was pressed firmly against the adjacent wall, before she slid to the floor. “I’m sorry. It’s just been…” She trailed off, unable (or perhaps unwilling) to vocalize the frustrations of her life in the two months since term started.

Her parents had been fighting. They pretended like they weren’t, but Clarke could tell, could sense and feel the tense silences, the things left unsaid, the subtle yet distinct decline in the number of group texts initiated, in joint phone calls, in the diminishing mentions in each other’s stories. Her parents were fighting and they were trying to pretend that they weren’t, which could only spell disaster.

Octavia had a new boyfriend. Clarke was happy for her friend, of course she was, because Octavia had never dated _anyone_ seriously, and now this guy has stuck around for enough months that not only did Octavia know his middle name (Gustus, after his uncle) but _Clarke_ even had his phone number. Clarke had never needed her roommate’s sexual partner’s phone number before. And Lincoln was lovely, and he clearly cared deeply for Octavia, and he was handy with both electronics and fixing Clarke’s rapidly disintegrating car. Lincoln was lovely, and he cared about Octavia, which were two qualities Clarke greatly appreciated, but… But. But she wished that Octavia and Lincoln being happy didn’t also correlate with a dramatic loss of ‘best friend time.’ Clarke and Octavia had been friends since they were 13, and with classes and Clarke’s job and Octavia’s soccer practices… it was _already_ hard enough to spend time with each other. And now every spare second of Octavia’ busy life seemed to go towards spending time with Lincoln, which, _fine_ , Clarke recognized she didn’t have any sort of monopoly or… or _claim_ to Octavia’s time, but… But. But still, she wished.

And three months ago Clarke found out that her boyfriend of almost a year had been cheating on her for half of that time ( _at least_ ). And she _didn’t_ love him and hadn’t loved him, and they didn’t even go to the same college so they only got to see each other about twice a month (in a good month), and it _wasn’t_ the end of the world (Octavia spat on the ground and grumbled, “Good riddance, scumbag” when Clarke told her), but… but it still hurt to be lied to, to be deceived. Because yes, Clarke _hadn’t_ loved Finn, but _he_ had claimed to love _her_ , and… and _no one_ likes being cheated on. No one likes being played for a fool. And Finn had certainly played her.

And to top it all off she lost her room key three weeks into the semester which meant she was more dependent on Octavia than _ever_ and she was around less than she had ever been.

And Clarke really fucking hated having to deal with Campus Po.

She sighed again, and with a few more murmured apologies to Octavia and the promise of lunch tomorrow, she hung up with her friend and dialed the number she was dreading.

**

“Hey, are you 207? The lockout?”

Clarke looked up from her phone and her response immediately died in her throat. She gulped. This girl was most definitely _not_ a police officer.

Her hair was pulled off of her face in several long, intricate braids that Clarke (no matter how many dolls sacrificed their yarn-hair and no matter how many times Octavia had tried to teach her) could _never_ learn. She was tall and thin and strong, with tanned skin and a severe jaw line that made her look like a grim warrior (but like… a _sexy_ grim warrior… if such a thing existed. And Clarke wasn’t sure that it did because ‘warrior’ was not a word that was commonly thrown around in the 21 st century). Her dark jeans were tucked into combat boots and she wore a dark leather jacket over a plain gray t-shirt and Jesus Christ Clarke didn’t think she had ever been more attracted to a woman before in her _life._

The girl continued to stare at her, her forehead scrunching as a frown overtook her face. “Did I get the wrong room?”

“No!” Clarke leapt from the ground, scrambling with her backpack. The girl took a cautious step backwards. “No sorry, no I’m… yeah that’s me. Locked out.” Clarke ran a hand through her hair, suddenly _very_ aware of the fact that she had not showered since yesterday morning and that she had been wearing the same ragged sweatshirt for three days straight. She fought a blush and prayed that she didn’t have any embarrassing stains on any of her clothes or food in her teeth.

The girl eyed her up and down, seeming suspicious. “Name?” She asked, glancing down at the paper in her hand.

“Clarke. Clarke Griffin.” Clarke stuck her hand out and grinned in (what she hoped was) a charming fashion.

The girl did not take the offered hand, and Clarke cleared her throat uncomfortably and shoved her hands deep into her pockets just for something to do.

The girl lifted a set of keys, which Clarke noticed were attached to a lanyard with the school’s name and logo embroidered in bold, black letters. She brushed past Clarke to get to the door. The lock clicked and she pushed the door open for Clarke, who was still fighting her residual embarrassment in front of this absolutely _gorgeous_ girl.

“Thanks a lot.” Clarke smiled at her.

The girl nodded. “You’ve been charged the standard ten-dollar fee.”

Clarke laughed (though she couldn’t understand _why_ she suddenly had absolutely no game and there really wasn’t anything funny about what she said so _why was she laughing_ ), and used her foot to prop the door open.

An arched eyebrow. “Is there something else you need, Ms. Griffin?”

“Yeah, can I just… you aren’t a police officer, are you?”

The woman smiled a tight but polite smile. “Student. Senior, actually. This is my work-study.”

“Oh yeah… yeah cool. I’m a junior,” Clarke offered, still smiling nervously ( _why_ was she nervous? This was _embarrassing_ she was better at talking to women than this), “I work in the library on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

The girl nodded again and glanced to the side, clearly wanting this conversation to end.

Clarke knew when she was being brushed off, so she gracefully bowed out of the conversation. “Thanks again. My roommate’s out.”

The girl tipped her head. “Sure thing.”

“See you around, maybe?” Clarke managed one more soft, hopeful smile, and for the first time all night was met with an equally soft expression.

“Yeah, maybe. Goodnight, Ms. Griffin.”

When the door closed, even though she should have been inside her own damn room 40 minutes ago, Clarke found herself smiling.

**

The second time it happened, the girl told Clarke her name.

“I remember you.” Hot not-police-officer stood above Clarke, who grinned sheepishly up at her from the floor.

Clarke stood, aware but only slightly self-conscious of the fact that she was only wearing running shorts and a tank top and she was practically dripping with sweat. “You let me in a few days ago, yeah.”

“Still no key?”

Clarke gestured down at her body and caught the way the girl’s eyes trailed down, following the movement of her hands and the curve of her torso down to her legs.

Clarke was grinning when the girl finally met her eyes again. She blushed.

“Not very many places to put a key, and my roommate’s out.”

The girl nodded and shot Clarke a tight smile. “Well, you’re lucky you got me. The other guy who works the desk is a real asshole; kind of creepy, too. You don’t want to be locked out after a shower when _he’s_ working.”

“But I want to be when you’re working?” Clarke asked, the picture of perfect innocence except for the smirk barely tugging at the corner of her mouth. The girl shifted on her feet and glanced down, another, stronger blush erupting on her cheeks. “You never told me your name, by the way. I’ve just been calling you ‘Hot not-police-officer’ and let me tell you it is _quite_ a mouthful.”

“My name is Lexa.” The girl met Clarke’s gaze and seemed to have recovered from her blushing fit. “Still need me to get the door, or…?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah sorry.” Clarke stepped to the side. “So, where are you from, Lexa?”

“I live on East Side.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

Clarke grinned as her door was pushed open. As Lexa walked away Clarke couldn’t help but think that she really liked this girl.

**

The third time it happened, it was definitely still Octavia’s fault.

“Miss Griffin, I think you’re beginning to do this on purpose.”

“You should just give me your number so I can call you directly, and then I don’t have to pay the ten dollars.”

Lexa shot her a look and Clarke raised her hands in surrender. “Alright, fine, bad joke, in poor taste. I do apologize.”

“So are you going to tell me why you’re locked out twice a week, or…?”

“I lost my key.” Lexa opened her mouth to say something, but Clarke was quick to interrupt, “I know I need to get a new one, I’m working on it, but here’s the thing: it’s never been a problem before, except my roommate now has this new boyfriend she’s absolutely crazy about. And right, you know I shouldn’t complain, except she’s literally _always_ at his place. And right, you know I shouldn’t complain about that _either_ because at least they’re not fucking in my room and sex-iling me all the time…”

“Sex-iling?” Lexa asked while pulling a face.

“Yeah, you know. Sex exiling me. Sex-iling me. Whatever, that’s not the point.”

Lexa laughed. “And what _is_ the point, Ms. Griffin?”

“The _point_ is that Octavia is always at Lincoln’s having sex and I am stuck here, locked out of my room and key-less after a _very_ long day and all I want to do is climb in my bed and watch something on Netflix… possibly a crime drama, maybe a comedy, I’m not picky as long as it doesn’t make me think.”

Lexa raised an eyebrow. “Well, you do seem to be in a pickle.”

“And then I have to go and call the Campus Police and interrupt what I’m _sure_ was a _very_ intense game of solitaire you were playing on your phone while waiting for lockout calls and drunk people calling about their passed-out friends—”

“We actually don’t get many of those on Tuesday nights, if you believe—”

Clarke cut Lexa off with a smile on her face. “So you admit to the solitaire thing.”

Lexa flushed all the way down to her chest and Clarke felt practically giddy with excitement. “I admit to no such thing.”

“I'm onto you, now. You totally play solitaire all day long.”

Lexa huffed and brushed past Clarke, unlocking her door and pushing it open with her foot while Clarke fought a laugh behind her. “If that’s all, Ms. Griffin…?”

Clarke nodded and winked, bending down to pick up her backpack from its position on the ground. “Always a pleasure, Lexa, really.”

Clarke moved past Lexa and into the room, but right before the door could swing shut, Lexa’s voice called out, “It’s not solitaire!”

Clarke grabbed the door to stop it from shutting, a polite — yet absolutely _delighted_  — grin on her face. “What’s not solitaire?” She asked innocently.

“I don’t play solitaire all day.”

“What do you—?”

Lexa blushed (she seemed to do that a lot around Clarke, lately) and said quietly, “It’s called Little Alchemy.”

Clarke burst out laughing. “Oh my God, Lexa, you’re kidding.”

Lexa looked indignant. “I am most certainly _not_ kidding. I have 278 of the 550 elements and it is getting _increasingly_ difficult to—”

“You are a gigantic nerd and it is _amazing._ ” Clarke beamed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.”

Lexa huffed and turned on her heel, marching away, but not before Clarke saw the distinct hint of a smile on her lips and around the corners of her eyes. Clarke amused Lexa — she totally knew that was true — and so she stayed there, leaning against her doorframe and watching Lexa retreat through the halls, waiting to see if the older girl would turn around and look back at her room before she disappeared from sight.

At the end of the hall Lexa paused, and turned slightly, only enough to catch Clarke’s form in her peripheral vision (Clarke shot her a small flirty wave that caused Lexa’s lower back to tingle pleasantly) before she hurried down the stairs.

Clarke fought the urge to fist-pump.

**

By the fifth time, Clarke couldn’t really pretend that she wasn’t… orchestrating this in some way.

Besides the fact that _no one_ gets locked out of their dorm room five times in fewer weeks, and besides the fact that Clarke frequently ‘forgot’ to remind Octavia not to lock the door when she left for Lincoln’s for the night, Clarke totally had Raven look up Lexa’s work schedule so that her lockouts could ‘coincidentally’ coincide with the hot brunette who seemed to be warming up to her with every meeting.

But she would deny it to her dying day.

And if Octavia had taken to coughing the word ‘ _stalker’_ to her while they ate breakfast together… well, then Clarke did not need to dignify that with a response.

**

“Again, Ms. Griffin?”

Clarke grinned and stood from the floor. “Lexa I think we can cut the formalities. It’s been like… a half dozen times you’ve let me into my room. You can call me Clarke. We’re there in our relationship, I think.”

If Clarke wasn’t _very_ tired (and honestly just a little bit drunk) she might have thought that Lexa was… _blushing_. Now Clarke was no stranger to a blushing Lexa, but she hardly thought that _that_ had been any kind of smooth line. She must be more charming than she thought… or else _very_ intoxicated.

The cocktails in her system seemed to have bolstered her confidence, for she pushed off of the wall she usually stuck to and took a few steps forwards into Lexa’s space. “You ever gonna come in with me?” She asked with a wink, but Lexa merely rolled her eyes (but there was a smile tugging at her lips that Clarke found _very_ encouraging).

“Go out drinking tonight?”

Clarke nodded, her eyes firmly glued to Lexa’s lips (try as she might to force them up). “Anniversary of Raven’s accident.”

Lexa frowned. “Raven Reyes?”

Clarke nodded, surprise apparent on her face. “You know her?”

“We’re in the same physics class. She was in an accident? Is she okay?”

Clarke waved off her concern. “It was like five years ago.”

“Why would you… why would you drink for this… occasion?”

“Lexa she almost _died_ ,” Clarke said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “you gotta drink to celebrate _that_. She came away from that accident with a limp and a crazy scar but she’s alive and she can _walk_ , and that’s pretty fucking incredible. We always get trashed on the anniversary, to remember that life is very…” Clarke wobbled on her feet a little but with a bracing hand on the wall behind her managed to straighten up, “ _very_ fickle and we gotta embrace it.” She winked again though she did not know why.

She was perhaps drunker than she had originally estimated. How did she even get _home?_

“That is… that is very strange, Clarke,” Lexa was quiet for a moment, “but also strangely sweet.”

“Well… strangely sweet is my middle name. Both of them is my middle name. Are my middle name. Just one name not two names. Name. Hyphenated. One word, like… like ‘strangelysweet’.”

Lexa laughed and reached around Clarke to unlock her door. “Maybe next time ask Octavia to give you her key if you’re coming back to the room on your own.”

Clarke stood up straight, a serious expression on her face. She saluted and Lexa fought hard against a bubbling laugh. “Yes sir Commander Lexa sir!”

“Get inside before you pass out, Griffin.”

Clarke grinned and winked at the other girl. “Admit it, you’re a little charmed by me.”

Lexa shook her head, lightly guiding Clarke inside the dark room. “Goodnight, Clarke. Get some sleep, drink some water, eat some bread.”

“Till next time, Lex.” She really hoped that she waited until Lexa was out of the room before she face-planted into her bed without removing a single article of clothing but she couldn’t possibly be sure.

**

The eighth time it happened, Clarke had just gotten out of the shower and she was wrapped in a towel and dripping wet and _very_ frustrated.

“Took you long enough.”

Lexa raised her eyebrows but did not fight the grin that was overtaking her lips. “This is hilarious.”

Clarke crossed her arms over her chest and tried not to look uncomfortable even though only a thin piece of cloth separated her from Lexa’s burning stare. “Don’t be a dick. Open my door.”

“What, no witty banter? No inappropriate flirting?” Lexa pulled a face. “Gotta say, Griffin, I don’t know whether to be happy or disappointed.”

“Well, I could always drop this towel…” Clarke took a purposeful step forward but Lexa, to her credit, kept her face impassive. Clarke sighed and ran a hand through her damp hair. “I know; God I _know…_ I’m sorry that wasn’t even trying.”

“It really wasn’t.”

“I can do better.”

“Usually you can.”

“I’ve just been… Off my game today, I guess. Plus the whole ‘locked out of your bedroom fresh out of the clean shower’ thing really put a damper on my mood.”

Lexa managed a laugh. “Hopefully the next time I catch you you’re a little more chipper. _And_ a little more clothed.”

“Well… if you only get to pick one…?”

Lexa unlocked the door almost without looking. “Stop locking yourself out, Clarke.”

“I make no promises!” She called to Lexa’s back as the older girl swept away from her and back towards the stairwell.

**

The tenth time, Octavia was actually in the room, pretending like she wasn’t.

“You’re an idiot, Clarke.” Luckily the door was firmly shut behind her and Clarke didn’t think that Lexa was still loitering around outside, but still…

Octavia didn’t glance up from her book, but that didn’t stop Clarke from glowering at her. “Don’t you have a boyfriend to call?”

“Just ask her out and stop being creepy.”

“I am not listening to you.”

“This is getting out of hand.”

“Octavia…” Clarke warned but the other girl just sighed and rolled over, grumbling about 'useless lesbians.'

"I'm bisexual."

"Super not the point."

**

“Haircut, Lex? Looks good.”

Lexa tried to appear exasperated, but truthfully it had been about a week and a half since she had last seen Clarke and she was starting to… ‘miss’ was the wrong word for what she was feeling, but Lexa couldn’t deny that seeing the younger woman always managed to cheer her up a little bit. She wouldn’t exactly say that she _missed_ seeing Clarke, but… Lexa had certainly _noticed_ her absence, and she certainly didn’t exactly totally _like_ that absence.

So when she approached the sitting blonde in front of a now familiar doorway, Lexa felt a smile building on her face and laughter tugging at her eyes and a distinct lightness in her chest that hadn’t been there before. “Why do you always seem to get locked out on days that I’m working?”

Clarke grinned, standing from her spot. “Luck of the draw?”

“Why don’t you replace your key, Clarke?”

Clarke shrugged. “It’s like a hundred dollars to replace a key. And besides, miss out on these lovely conversations? I would _never_.”

Lexa rolled her eyes, and moved to go around Clarke, but the other girl slid in front of her again, effectively blocking her from getting to the door. Lexa raised an eyebrow. “Clarke?”

“What’s your last name?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Come on, I hardly know anything about you. You know practically _everything_ about me. I mean, Lex… you even know where I _live_.”

“You are ridiculous.” She tried to sidestep Clarke again, but again found herself cut off. Lexa huffed. “Clarke, I have other calls to get to.”

“So tell me your last name.”

Lexa studied her for another moment. “It’s Woods.”

“And is Lexa short for anything?”

Lexa pointed an accusatory finger. “Now that was never part of the—”

Clarke glanced down at the watch on Lexa’s wrist. “Come on now, Lexa Woods, time is tick tick ticking away. Calls to get to, lives to save, people to let into their dorms…” Clarke trailed off, glancing around the hallway like she was trying to count the ceiling tiles.

Lexa glowered. “Alexandria. And I don’t make it a habit to tell people that, so I would appreciate it if you—” She cut herself off as Clarke stepped to the side, allowing her full access to the bedroom door. Lexa cleared her throat and straightened her shirt. “Thank you very much.”

“I should be thanking _you._ Thirteen times you’ve saved my ass. You’re like my own guardian angel.”

“Guardian angels aren’t paid.”

“Someone should really look into that. Maybe take it up with the big man,” Clarke pointed at the ceiling (past the ceiling) but her eyes never left Lexa’s face. “I’m sure there must be an angel’s union or something to protest against these conditions.”

Lexa couldn’t help but smile (though she _really_ didn’t want to find Clarke Griffin’s dorky banter charming and attractive and endearing). “I’ll see you around Clarke.” She walked away and didn’t look back to see whether or not Clarke was watching her leave (she was) or whether the tight jeans she had decided to don for her shift tonight — which she picked _absolutely_ on her own and _definitely_ not with a certain blonde junior in mind — were having any sort of desired effect on Clarke (they were).

Clarke watched Lexa’s swaying hips as she retreated back down the hallway and had to shake herself after a moment. She _totally_ had to do something about this situation, and soon.

**

“Clarke, you’ve managed to charge $150 in lockout fees to your bill this semester. Your parents can’t be too happy about that. Maybe you should try attaching your key to your wrist, or neck or something similar when you leave your room.”

Clarke laughed and took a step forward decisively into Lexa’s personal space. “Lex, if you would recognize this for what it is, not a lockout twice a week but simply a tragic excuse to get a date with you, you’d save me a lot of money.”

Lexa blinked at her in confusion. “A what?”

“Lex, come on. Fifteen lockouts? In three months? Who does that?”

“Someone very forgetful?”

“And the flirting? Come on, I wasn’t being _subtle.”_

Lexa blushed. “I just thought you were… I don’t know, I thought it was like a… a _thing_ that we were…”

Clarke laughed. “Yes, the ‘ _thing’_ was me trying to get you to like me so that you would go out with me.” She smiled and took a step towards Lexa. “So will you go out with me or do I have to twist your arm about it?”

Lexa flushed and looked down, toying with the ring of keys attached to her lanyard. “Well, you see…”

Clarke took a step closer. “Come out with me. Let me buy you dinner and try to kiss you.” Lexa looked up at her and Clarke winked. “How does that sound?”

Lexa cleared her throat and nodded. “Yes, I think we can manage that.”

Clarke bent and placed a slow kiss to Lexa’s flushed cheek. She reached behind her and twisted the knob on her door, pushing it open and sliding back into her room.

“Your door wasn’t even locked. I feel lied to!” Lexa called out once the door was shut.

“I’ll pick you up at seven!” Clarke called back through the door and Lexa grinned as she turned away.


End file.
